


The Busted

by iscarion



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-05-25 07:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14972081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iscarion/pseuds/iscarion
Summary: Twenty years ago a young woman stowed away with the Ravagers. She isn't what she says she is, but perhaps she will come to belong with them.





	1. Charmer

“Have you been to Knowhere before?”

“No…”

“You’ll like it. You can find just about anything in Knowhere.”

He was a newly minted Ravager, all in black to match the others of his new clan. Yondu looked at his superior officer, Stakar. It had only been six, maybe seven, months since he had been rescued by Stakar. A fresh twenty-one years old. He looked out the starbard window and saw the monstrosity that was Knowhere. A climate controlled city in a celestial’s skull. He had heard of it before but hearing about it and seeing it were two different things.

“Yeah I’m sure I will”

It was a short trip. Out to a buyer and then on to something else. But not without spending a little of their hard earned units. Off they went to the diviest of dive bars that Knowhere had to offer. It had everything. Liquor like paint thinner, beer like piss, and the saddest stripper bots money did not want to buy. Just the place for the Ravagers.

Yondu wasn’t feeling it. He was unsure of what to do. He sat there and nursed his drink while some of the others fed units into the depressed ladydroids. Stakar has taken notice.

“Yondu try and enjoy yourself.”

Yondu shruged. “I’m fine.” He went back to scanning the room and slowly drinking his beer.

“No you’re not fine. When was the last time you had a good time?”

He shot his commanding officer a glance. Yondu fell silent again.

Stakar sighed, exasperated. “Look, Yondu, we’re not going to punish you for enjoying yourself. Get out there, find a girl, do…something. Your scowling is bringing everyone else down.”

Yondu kept silent.

“If I have to give you an order…”

“Alright I’m goin!” He exclaimed. He downed his drink and went over to the bar. If he was going to be forced into having fun it’ll be the cross-eyed kind. Yondu ordered another drink. Something stronger.

* * *

She needed a target.

A mark. Someone to ‘trade places’ with. It wasn’t safe for her on Knowhere anymore. It wasn’t safe for her anywhere if she was going to be honest with herself. Which she wasn’t. But in her mind, anywhere was better than Knowhere. She scanned the bar she called home at the moment for someone, anyone, who looks like they wouldn’t put up much of a fight and didn’t look like they lived THERE.

Near the big window in front of the bar. He had come in with a group lead by an arcturan.

Blue skin and dressed in dark leathers. He had the look of someone weary but not experienced, with a young face struck with a weary suspicion. He had been pouring the local rotgut down his throat for the better part of 20 minutes. He was bigger than she was hoping for but no matter. He’d do in a pinch. She can improvise a bit. She finished her drink and made haste towards the bar. She needed to stay sharp. Stay focused. There was an insignia on his coat that she had seen before but she could not exactly place where. A gold starburst or a flame. It didn’t matter. Her mark mattered. She crouched down and started her shift. Centauri was easy enough. Green to blue with a bright red fin to replace her sable hair. Violet fatigues into something more revealing. Something to pique his interest. Her eyes changed little. A brighter red. It wasn’t the best shift but it would have to do. She hoped it was enough to get his attention.

Through the crowded club she meandered. Keeping her eye on the the leather trench until she was nearly to the bar. He seemed very occupied with his drink but the try-hard scowl he had when he walked in had melted into a hungry sneer. He was feeding units into a robot gyrating on the pole behind the bar. Maybe something living could get his attention.

* * *

Yondu was actually starting to have fun. The liquor was terrible but at least he was feeling a bit better because of it. And he was enjoying the view. Sure the stripper bots barely had any life to them but the more they danced and the more he drank the less he cared. He noticed someone come up next to him. A woman. A centaurian woman.

“Hello, stranger” She said, leaning into him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Are you new?”

He looked at her with a bit of surprise. Must’ve been some time since he had seen a woman centaurian. Or maybe all the booze had gone to his head and he was hallucinating. He eyed her a few times before his mood changed back to his scowls and continued feeding units into the sad, sad robot rotating on the pole.

“Aw come on, don’t be that way.” She cooed. “You look like you could use a little fun!” One arm snaked around his waist while the other guided his hand around her shoulders. “Yer the first Centaurian I’ve seen in a while y’know. Nice to see one in a uniform too. You a cop or something?”

“I ain’t a cop” he finally answered. He was trying to ignore her but she was making it very difficult.

“Good ‘cause I don’t date cops. I do like the uniform though. Where’re you from, honey?”

A quick glance her way. “Not here.”

“I can see that. Can you at least tell me yer name?” She pleaded, leaning into him.

He finally looked her way. She was pretty, he’d give her that, but she wasn’t anything to write home about. “What do you want?”

“I just want to have a good time, honey.”

He took a swig of the mystery liquor and ordered another. “Yondu.”

A warm smile crept onto her face. “Well, Yondu, I’m Posca.” Her hand moved from his waist to the back of his head. She touched the base of the fin on his head and his defensive posture let up. “Now that we’re friends, how about we get better acquainted? Maybe buy me a drink?”

Fuck it. Stakar told him to enjoy himself, so he was going to do it the way he wanted.

“S-Stakar!” He called out. The leader stopped to turn and look, along with everyone else in the group.

“I umm…I need to…uh…” Yondu couldn’t find his words. He looked down at the Centaurian girl plastered to him. She looked up with pleading ruby eyes. Stakar saw the two of them. He looked at his other officers who were giving looks back as if to say “it’s up to you”.

“You got two hours, then get back to the ship” He said.

She tightened her grip on him slightly and looked up at him with a wicked grin. She planted a light kiss on his neck.

“You still want that drink?” He asked Posca.

“I know a place not far where we can go, darling.” She said softly.

* * *

This was exactly what she needed.

She laid him down on the musty bed in a hotel not far from the club. She drove her hands up and down his body to get a feel of what was to come. He was broader than she had guessed. She started to undress him, but he pushed her off of him and began to do it himself. He was damned near all muscle, and riddled with scars. While he was busy fumbling with his trousers, she had him. She had done this before, when she was with the empire. He had stopped his groping when he began to notice her body harden. He looked upon his own reflection staring back at him with a wicked smile. It was the last thing he saw before a shock against his temples, and then succumbed to blackness.

* * *

“Yondu? Yondu!” Stakar called on their comms. He wasn’t going to deny letting the kid get his rocks off, but they had to get moving. What was he doing proposing to her?

Out of the alley way he came, stuffing himself back into his leathers. “Sorry! Sorry…” He said. “Took…a bit longer than I thought.” he said, a sheepish grin plastered to his face.

Stakar eyed him. “Right. Get on board.”

With a quick ‘yessir!’ Yondu hurried onto the ship along with the others. There was something off about him, but Stakar let it go. Yondu was young. This minor infraction might have set him back but it wasn’t anything worth pursuing. It was only what? Five extra minutes? He was probably overcompensating. Stakar boarded the ship and headed out.

Yondu woke with his head in a vice and a breeze on his everything. She had knocked him out and stole the shirt right off his back. And his pants right off his ass. She left him his underwear and his boots. How nice of her. If he found her he was going to beat her ass black and dump her naked out the airlock of the Starhawk. But first he needed to make a call. He had an idea as to who that whore was and if she was on Stakar’s ship he was going to know about it.

* * *

This was a mistake.

Now Not-Yondu remembered what that flame insignia was. The Ravagers. He sat in the M-ship looking around trying not to draw attention to himself or the fact that he was sweating profusely. Part of it was from knowing that if he gave any indicator that he wasn’t their friend he would be looking at a dozen angry pirates looking to turn him in for the bounty on his head. The shift itself was beginning to put a strain on him. He was taller and broader than her, and he had to concentrate hard to keep the shape. That, and ungodly sweltering heat from wearing fifty pounds of leather was making her sweat. Everything this guy had worn was leather save for his tighty whities, which she had mercifully left on him in. He had been too big to do a clothed shift, and so she had to strip him. She almost felt bad for leaving him there in that fleabag hotel room, but not bad enough to take clothes and his face. If he was lucky he could slip off once they docked with their ship and from there, take an m-ship and find some planet to disappear into. No more worrying about the empire, no Kree, no endless, fruitless infighting.

But first he had to get out of this damned getup and back in his own skin.

They docked with the larger ship. Something called the Starhawk, and he bolted out of his seat and onto the larger ship.

“Hey Yondu!” He froze. Was that his name? She couldn’t remember. That was what the arcturan man called him wasn’t it? “Where you off in a hurry? Ain’t you gonna tell us about that pretty young thing you were with?”

This plan of his was starting to go sour already, he knew it.

“I-in a bit I gotta hit the head first.” Not-Yondu replied and wandered off in a direction.

“Yondu, the bathroom’s the other way” One of them corrected.

“Oh right. Sorry.” He turned around and headed down the corridor.

“You gettin’ sick?” The other asked. “You don’t look all that great, man. Maybe you should go to the infirmary yer lookin kinda…green.” He turned to the first. “Do centaurians turn green when they’re sick?“

_Why were they still talking he had to get going. Sl’Gurt’s ever-changing asshole what was with these guys._

“Yeah I’ll do that” was his reply and started walking down the corridor again.

He turned the corner, walked down past a mess hall, turned another corner and another and down a flight of stairs. He was somewhere deep in the belly of the ship now. This looked secluded as it was going to get and he shifted back into her own body with a long resounding sigh of relief. She wanted out of these leathers and the sooner the better. She’d hold on to them for a bit. Might need them later. The rocket arrow she took off him wasn’t worth much without the control fin but it could get her a meal if she sold it as is.  She just needed to stay low for a few hours. Wait for them to sleep and-

Glaring red lights and sirens were going off. An “all hands on deck” sounded in the alarms. So much for that plan. She redressed herself as quickly as she could. She couldn’t remember exactly what he looked like now. She’d just have to improvise. Not as tall, not as broad, same brick headed face and a mouth full of broken teeth. Hopefully it’ll be enough to convince them that he was this Yondu guy.

Back up to the common areas and everyone was on full alert. It was a small crew, maybe twenty or so, clustered around a video screen. He tried to stay as far back as he could but he needed to know what everyone was looking at.

“Hey” Not-Yondu asked someone next to him. “What’s going on?”

“The new kid got duped by a hook-“ the ravager stopped as he turned to look at him.

Not-Yondu could systematically feel every person in the room turn and gawk at him. Across the way was the arcturan with the gold hoops on his shoulders. Behind him were some of the others who had come along. Behind  _them_ , on the screen, was a familiar brick headed face with a mouth full of sharp teeth and eyes full of murder.

“That’s her! That’s the bitch that done took my clothes!”

Not-Yondu had fucked up bad.

“I can explain.” He said. Not-Yondu turned and ran.


	2. Hard Headed Woman

Not-Yondu bolted for the door to the corridor, nearly losing the skin on his backside to the shutter as it slammed shut hard behind him. 

A hiss and a loud “STOP HIM!” Echoed down the corridor. 

Stakar glared at the shutter crackling with stun rounds.

“Search the ship.” He ordered to no one in particular. “I want everyone looking for him, and I want him taken alive. He won’t get far.”

He turned back to the screen where a clothing relieved Yondu looked on with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“Get a ship back out there and pick him up.” He turned and started down the corridor with his men.

 

The bolts of blasters whizzed by his body as he turned a corner, one nearly clipping him in the leg. He began shedding the leathers bit by bit, leaving only the flying arrow, holstered and slung around his shoulder.

Down flights of stairs again and through narrowing hallways. He was doing his best to avoid the remnants of the crew but he was hopelessly lost in the massive ship. If this was anything like other vessels he had been on before, the farther down he went the more likely he’d run into a storage closet he could hide in until the crew lessened their hunt.

He could hear the heavy trampling of boots on the decks above him and the echoes of voices calling out. Guess it was time to do one more shift. Sustaining this many shifts was starting to tire him out. It would have to be simple. The footsteps were getting closer. He hid behind a crate, then suddenly there was a smaller crate behind it. The crate looked out into the pathway as two ravagers came by. A pluvian and a female arcturan.

“He’s down here.” The arcturan said. “There’s nowhere else for him to go.”

“What do you think he is?”

“Couldn’t tell you, Marty. If he’s a shapeshifter he’s probably Skrull.”

“A Skrull? Out here? What would the skrull want with the ravagers?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s a spy.”

As if the empire would want anything to do with a bunch if thieves. The crate thought.

“He’s a real shitty spy if he’s hiding out down here.” The pluvian replied. The crate took offense to that. It was playing things by ear and doing what they could.

The two moved on. The crate sighed a cratey sigh of relief. Unfortunately it would not last long, as something had scurried upon its head. An orloni? It was an orloni. What was it doing? Was it also looking for a place to hide? As a matter of fact it was! It was trying to gnaw a hole into the corner of the living crate.

An arm shot out from the surface of the crate to grab the space rat, and hurled it in the direction the two ravagers were heading. It let out a thin screech as it arched over them and crashed on the far side of a bulkhead with an end to its screams. This was getting exhausting, and on top of it all, now the crate was bleeding.

The crate should have just stayed on Knowhere.

The crate shifted back into her former self. She crept out of the storage unit and back into the open, empty hallway. She needed to find an escape pod but she needed a disguise. She unsheathed the flying arrow intent on making it her shiv. It was a bad idea but at this point desperation and fatigue had seeped into her thoughts. Kill the two ravagers, take the form of one and hide their bodies. The woman. She’d be easy enough to copy. She crouched down and hid in the dark of the hallway.

There was a faint whistling noise. It was probably nothing, and she readies the arrow to strike.A glowing trail of red floated past her eyes. A flash of gold and the arrow was off to find its master. Or it would have, if it weren’t bogged down with her weight. It was hers, but the arrow had plans of its own as it floated upward amidst catwalks and gangplanks and gawking aliens. When the arrow finally stopped, she was greeted by several angry ravagers, led once again by the arcturan, and next to him one nearly naked, very angry centaurian.

“Oh.” She started, a sheepish grin on her face. “Hello, darling. It’s nice to see you again.”

The centaurian frowned harder. He let out a sharp whistle and the arrow shook her off onto the catwalk, and returned to its master’s waiting hand. Two ravagers were on her with restraints, and the group escorted her to the brig of the ship. They unceremoniously tossed her into a cell like a rag doll, the door shutting with a loud ‘KLANG’.

“I’ll deal with you later.” The arcturan said. He turned to his lieutenant. “Yondu, get some clothes on. Meet me upstairs.”

 

 

Yondu stood in Stakar’s quarters with the other officers. They each had their own corner of the room, save for Stakar seated behind a desk, flanked by Aleta and Martinex. All parties looked upon him with hardened, stone faces. 

“You want to explain to me how a skrull hooker duped you and got on board my ship?” Stakar asked.

All of the color drained out of yondu’s face. He fumbled with his words in a stream of embarrassed “uhs” and “ums”, and an “I don’t think she was a hooker”, until he heard Aleta’s snicker, and he fell into flustered silence.

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, Yondu.” Stakar said. “But it is your fault that she’s here. So what do you want to do with her?”

“What do you want me to do with her…?”

“That’s up to you.”

The blaze of anger that had wanted her broken and bloodied had cooled in him. He didn’t want her dead, but he sure as hell did not want her here. Stowing away like she did was like a pretty slapdash plan. Desperate. Like she wanted to get offworld as soon as possible. And of all the ships she could possibly choose she goes with the ravagers? 

“You think she’s a spy?”

Stakar gave it a thought. “Probably not. Not unless she’s trying to pull some kind of long-haul-deep-cover shit. Even then she still did a piss poor job of it.”

Even if she was a spy what use would the skrull empire have with a bunch of thieves, even if they were the best? She was acting alone, with no real plan, and in a hurry.

“I want to go talk with her.”

“Then i guess we should pay her a visit.” Stakar stood and motioned for Yondu. “I have a few things i want to talk to her about, m’self.”

 

The two ravagers gazed into the cell devoid of one green thief.

“Where’d she go?”

There was a massive shudder through the ship, blaring alarms and a warning of a hull breach.

“Mainframe! What’s going on!?” Stakar yelled.

“Someone shot through the hangar with one of the M-Ships!”

Stakar groaned.

“Go after her! And get through to her coms! Which ship did she take?”

“Uh...looks like it’s the Dallos.”

A sardonic smirk played on Stakar’s face “My ship. Of course. Where’s the jump point?”

“Looks like...ten clicks from here. She getting ready for a jump, I got her on the line!”

Just got to stall her long enough.

“Hi there, capitano.” A husky, saucy voice answered. “This is a nice ship y’got, ravager. It’s gonna get me a nice little chunk’a change when I’m done stripping it out. Hope you don’t mind. Nothing against you I just needed the money. Y’know how it is yeah?”

“Get back here with my ship. You don’t know who your dealing with, kid”

“Hm. Nah. I don’t care who y’guys are. Maybe you should work on getting some crew members that don’t think with their junk. Just sayin’.”

“Bitch” Yondu spat.

“Darling! So nice of you to join in! I’d love to keep talking gentlemen but I have to go.”

“Oh i don’t think you’re going anywhere, kid.”

There was a noticeable sound in the thief’s end of the line, followed by a staccato “SHIT” from her, right before the communications went dead.

“Gotta love timed killswitches.” Stakar said. “Let’s go pick her up.”

 

 

There was roughly seven miles of cobweb hanging from the piping above the hold she was in. She laid on her back staring up at them. She was exhausted, and hungry, and in no small way terrified of what they were going to do with her. Were they going to interrogate her? Torture her? Or maybe they’ll just throw her out the airlock like trash. It would be better than the alternative: Selling her back to Throneworld, or dropping her back off on Knowhere. She rolled to her side on the hard bench to look at the wall. Just close your eyes and wait. There’s not much you can do right now.

Footfalls on the steel were coming up to her cell. They stopped. She turned to look at the captain. And the centaurian. This was not going to be pleasant.

“Hello darling.” She said, addressing Yondu.

A sneer crawled across his face. “Don’t call me that. I don’t know who you are, or where you came from-“ The Captain steadied his lieutenant with a hand on his shoulder and a hard stare. The centaurian stayed silent.

“So. Posca was it?” the captain asked.

“For now.” she retorted.

“Don’t get cute. You’re already in deep kid. First you knock out my friend here, you stow away on my ship and then you steal one of my other ships.”

Stakars eyes narrowed. Yondu looked at his captain for something to say.

“You forgot about taking your friend’s clothes, and his face.”

The captain let out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m just gonna cut to the quick. You with the skrull empire?”

“Nope!”

“You a prostitute?”

“Oh gods are you serious? I only tried to bang your guy because he was easy.”

“He’s young he’ll learn.”

“I’m right here, Stakar.” Yondu chimed in.

“And no, I’m not a hooker.” She added.

“You a skip out on someone?”

“No. Can I get something to eat? I haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“So you just what? Decided to leave? Just like that?”

“Shit no. It’s complicated, captain...Stacker? Stalker?”

“Stakar.”

“Stakar. Right. So can I get a snack or something? I haven’t eaten all day.”

Stakar looked at Yondu, in a way that meant he had hit a nerve in her. He looked back at the girl. She was a runaway. Albeit a little old for a runaway. She might have been adjacent in age to his recruit but it was never easy to tell with someone who could change their appearance at will. 

“You can eat after you answer my questions. What are you doing on my ship?”

The skrull woman thought for a moment.“I had to get outta Knowhere and I was desperate. Your lieutenant there was the best I got on short notice.”

A half truth. They didn’t need to know everything.

“So you’re not a spy, and you just wanted out of Knowhere. Kid I hate to break it to ya but you picked the wrong ship to stow away on.”

“Yeah no shit.”

Stakar let out an even more frustrated sigh. “Kid give me a reason not to drop you back down there.”

“Your lieuten-“

“I’m not his lieutenant.” Yondu insisted.

The captain and her both glared at the centaurian. She started over.

“Your...friend there was easy to dupe so that’s one.” She paused. Running this gambit might not work, but it never hurts to try. “The other is...well yer a bunch of pirates. And I uh, kind of owe a lot of money. The ship would’ve helped.”

“You blew a hole in this one too.”  
“I-I know I know. I just really don’t want to go back to Knowhere.” There was a tremble creeping into her voice. “I can um...I can work it off. I’d rather be up here than down there.”

Stakar snorted and gave a sarcastic half-grin. “Damn kid, you got balls. Tell ya what. You did fool Yondu. I’ll give you that. But stealing my shit ain’t helping your case.”

Stakar paused.

“How did you escape?”

“I um...I can make myself a little smaller and squeeze through the bars. I just changed into someone else when no one was looking.”

“Show me.” Stakar demanded.

She stood up, looked at the bars in her cell. She put her hands up to them. It was going to be a tight fit. About the span of her hand, but not impossible. She concentrated and stretched herself thin. First her head, she twisted a little to get her shoulders through, her arms flailing as they popped out of the gap. A little wiggle for her hips, and a final hoist to get her legs free. She stood back up and snapped back to her former shape.

The two pirates looked at the freed skrull woman standing before them. The captain’s nonplussed scowl and crossed arms remained unchanged. Yondu was doing his damnedest to keep his stone face, and failing.

She asked ”Does that work for you?” With a haughty smirk.

“Try again.” The captain said.

Tough crowd. Shifting did nothing to impress him, neither did her little escape routine. It was time to pull out the biggest guns she had: the truth. Or at least most of the truth. She let out a deep breath. She hated the truth, as no one ever believed her.

“I...I” She faltered. Tell the truth and see what happens. 

“I have nowhere else to go.” She started, the little waver in her voice growing more pronounced. “I owe a lot of money on Knowhere. It was either stow away and get offworld, or get my legs broken and work it off on my back.” She craned her neck to look at the centaurian, “I honestly had no idea who this guy was. But hey, I’m not dead so it’s a start.” She could feel the lump in her throat get bigger and rolled her eyes to fight back the tears. “I…I didn’t mean anything against you guys. I’m...sorry.”

Stakar looked at the girl. A better look now that she was standing before him. Garnet eyes and long black hair, a wide-set mouth with vertical folds on her chin and long pointed ears synonymous with her race. Her clothes were filthy, threadbare at the knees, and probably the only things she owned. Her boots were made more of tape than leather. She had no other belongings other than what she had on. She was slight and small and the hollows of her face were starting to show.

He did not trust this girl, but he knew this was the truth.or at least she was a spectacular actor. Stakar turned to Yondu, he had gone silent while she spilled her guts. He thought about how he found him in a condition not too dissimilar a year ago. His recruit, who had looked at her with vitriolic disdain for what she did to him, soften into a less acidic pensiveness.

“How much do you owe?” Stakar asked.

She couldn’t look at him when she answered. “Th-Thirty thousand units.”

The two ravagers balked. “Good lord, kid. What did you do bet the house on the space ponies?”

“It costs a lot to get out of skrull space. That’s just what I have left to pay off.”

“Why’d you leave the empire?”

“That’s…” none of your business. “...a very long story.”

“We got time.”

“I don’t want to get into it.”

Stakar decided not to push the subject. They all had their secrets, she was entitled to hers.

“What’s your name? Your real name.”

“N’Zar. N’Zar N’Zenne”

“Well N’Zar N’Zenne, you ain’t gonna be a Ravager, but you’re here now. You’re gonna pay off the hole you made, and whoever you owe money to down on Knowhere.”

Yondu’s eyes darted to his captain.

“Stakar! Are-are you serious? She…”

 

“She what? She beat you, so you better watch your mouth, Yondu.”

“She didn’t fight me, she fuckin’ tased me while I was getting my clothes off!”

“And that’s your own damn fault. She’s here because of you, and now she’s going to be your responsibility”

The two looked at the captain with incredulity and a unified exclamation of “what?”

“N’Zar is going to shadow you. She’s going to follow you around, go with you on missions, the whole deal. And you!” He looked at her. “getting up here was impressive but you need to learn to plan a little better. You’re going to follow his orders, and mine, and everyone else’s while you’re on this ship, got that?”

“Yessir.” She answered.

“Yondu?”

Yondu’s face grew hot with embarrassment. He looked down at his new underling. She looked up at him in turn. They had near identical scowls smeared across their faces.

“Sir.”

“Good. Now, you still hungry?”


	3. Gunslingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> N'Zar has been found, and a deal is made.

Neither Stakar nor Yondu was sure if she was even tasting what she was shoving into her mouth but they didn’t say anything about it. N’Zar was on her third bowl of wet brown lumps that might’ve been soup at one point, but had given up the culinary ghost and congealed into amorphous slop that once had been meat or maybe potato. She didn’t care what it was. It was food and it was the best damned meal she had in what felt like a lifetime. The three of them were sitting in the mess, devoid of other Ravagers, whom all were not so silently watching from the doorway, Aleta at the door.

“Guess Aleta was right. She’s a skrull.” 

“So she’s not a spy then?”

“I guess not. Looks like she picked the wrong ship.”

“Heard she banged up the Dallos pretty bad.”

“Are you sure she’s not from the empire?”

“Y’know she’d be kinda cute if she tried.”

N’Zar turned to the group. She waved at the men and they waved back. She gave a big smile and they did so in return. Her eyes rolled back and her head lolled around her neck. Her jaw went slack and her mouth split farther open than should be possible, with an eruption of tentacles spewing from her mouth and ears. The men jumped back, save for Aleta, whom let out a long horsey cackle at the terrified crew. N’Zar returned to her usual skrull self and back to the bowl of brown with a satisfied grin on her face. Neither Stakar nor Yondu were amused.

“Nice crew. So when do I get one of those uniforms y’guys wear?” She asked, shaking a gravy-covered spoon at the two.

“Maybe when you pay everything off. We’ll give you some new clothes in the meantime.” Stakar said, eyeing the holes and stains in her shirt.

“I’m not going to have to like, do some initiation thing am I?”

The two men looked at each other. She wasn’t paying them any mind, instead focusing the bulk of her attention to scraping out as much of the thick broth as she could. She didn’t notice either of their subtle grins.

“As a matter of fact, you do.” Stakar said, leaning in to the table to emphasize the gravity of the statement.

N’Zar stopped mid-mastication. She stared at the stone-faced captain with pleading eyes, but he remained unmoving and unforgiving. It wasn’t until she noticed the crack in Yondu’s facade that she realized he was fucking with her.

She frowned and wiped gravy from her face. “That’s not funny.”

“Yes it is” Yondu sneered. “Shit girl, you’d probably think gullible was written on the ceiling if we said it was”

N’Zar fought the urge to look up by returning to cramming lumps of meat or potato in her face.

“So what am I gonna do here?” She asked on her last nerve of the night.

“We are, but you just got here. You’re not going on any missions yet. You’ll be working in there.” Stakar motioned to the galley. “And in the lower decks. Cleaning.”

N’Zar set down her spoon in her bowl. “I’m a maid? Seriously? What about shadowing Yolanda?” She motioned towards Yondu.

“Yondu.” He said.

“You will be shadowing him. He’ll be down here too. For now.”

“I-What!? Why?”

“Because you’re the reason she’s on this ship. You still fucked up, Yondu, so you get two are going to get to know each other a bit better.”

Yondu and N’zar looked at each other with venom in their eyes. 

“Yes, sir.” they both said.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a ship to run.” Stakar stook from the table, heading towards the hall.

“Wait, where am I sleeping? Don’t i get new clothes? Can i at least get more to eat?!”

 

“Bunks are on the fourth deck. There’s usually leftover clothes up there. No guarantee they’ll be clean but they’ll probably have less holes. Yondu can show you around for the rest. I’m heading back to my quarters i’m done with this headache for a few hours.”

And with that, Captain Stakar made his leave and back to his quarters. He sat down at his desk. The Skrull empire was very far from Knowhere. And the amount of debt she wracked up sounded like trafficking, and she looked like she’d been out there for a while. But thirty thousand units was ten times the rate. Whatever she did, she needed to escape, and she needed to disappear. Stakar opened a private channel of communication.

“Mainframe.”

“Yes captain?”

“Can you do a background check for me on the new kid? I want to see if she’s got a bounty on her head. Her name’s N’Zar N’Zenne.”

“Gimme a sec....It doesn’t look like she does. Or at least there aren’t any skrull with that name.”

“Did you check the imperial databases?”

“I’ve been trying but it’s going to take a while to get through to the Skrull’s firewalls.”

“You do that. Wake me up if something pops up.” Stakar walked towards his bed, Aleta was there waiting patiently.

“You suspect her.” She stated.

“You don’t?” He asked, stripping down to his skivvies and climbing into the small bed they shared.

“I do, but I doubt she’s dangerous. Just not very bright.” She rolled on to her husband. “She’ll get along fine with everyone if Yondu doesn’t kill her first.”

A pensive ‘hmm’ rumbled in his chest. 

“She made me laugh.” she added. “Scared the stones right off Marty.”

 

 

Of course I’m stuck with this little green witch, Yondu thought. He was still in the mess hall with his new ward. She was sitting there now on her fifth bowl. Her eyes flashed at him for a second before focusing on the last scraps of food. Once Stakar had left interest in the new member of the crew had waned, and the other men dispersed to do their jobs, or to sleep. 

“I can’t believe you ate all that.” He said.

“Shifting takes a lot of energy,.” she replied, sucking the last of the gravy off her lips. “And yer a pretty big shift, darling.”

“Stop calling me darling. It’s Yondu. Udonta”.

“All right, all right. I didn’t mean anything by it, d...Udonta.” N’Zar stood and walked towards the galley, bringing the bowl with her. Yondu had followed suit. To his relief it wasn’t to go in for a sixth bowl but to rinse it out in the already full sink.

“No dishwasher?” She asked.

“It’s busted. We put too many in there one night and never got around to fixing it.” He stated.

Her nose scrunched at the sight, and the thought that this was her job for the foreseeable future. It can wait until morning. 

Yondu walked out of the mess hall with his new green shadow trailing behind him. Her mocking nature was gone as the two made their way through the decks and into the main crew’s sleeping quarters. Near everyone was asleep, and those who weren’t looked at her. Some with curiosity, most with contempt. Each had their own bunk in the hall. She could see in the low light each little nook was decorated how the men who slept there saw fit. Some posters, little decals, many had dimmed holographs of scantily clothed aliens, gyrating or. Her custodian stopped in front of one, in the back and the top most of the column of three, devoid of neighboring bunkmates. Little trinkets littered the small shelf next to the cot.

“Is this one taken?” N’Zar asked, placing her hand on the bed underneath his. 

Yondu had taken off his leather duster, and began unbuckling the holster for his arrow. “Take it.” he said, unbuttoning the shirt he wore underneath.

She sat down in the bunk and the two disrobed in silence. She glanced at him briefly while his back was turned. He wasn’t terrible to look at now that she had the chance. He was young but already riddled with scars. Two stood out to her. They were old and deep. One was the long, jagged line that ran from the back of his implant to the base of his spine. The other was a dark and permanent bruise around his neck. He undoubtedly had similar ones across his wrists. The remnants of another life, one of blood and bondage.

“Do you see something you like?” a hoarse and deadpan whisper asked her. She hastily went back to untying her disintegrating shoes as if nothing had happened but the deep emerald rising on her cheeks betrayed her. She didn’t even bother taking off her clothes before sliding under the covers. Yondu chuffed, satisfied with embarrassing the little green witch. 

 

She laid there, hearing the loud snores of her new shipmates and staring up at the cot above her. She swore she could make out the contour of his back through the thin mattress. Damn him. Damn him for being so easy on the eyes. No. don’t think that. No matter how starved for affection she was, she was the most bottom rung on the ladder. She would not touch him. Her aim was on other things. On the cold unyielding units she so desperately needed. She reached up to the groan in the cot above her, her touch she hoped was feather-light. She closed her eyes in silent prayer.

Sl’gur’t thank you for sending me a fool in a scoundrel’s leathers.

As a matter of fate, down came said scoundrel’s arm. Startled at first. But noticing the familiar twitch of a nightmare in his hand. N’Zar lifted her own, in experiment, barely touching him, her fingernails grazing his skin. His hand went slack at her touch. She brushed her thumb against his knuckles and fought the urge to cool and hush hin and frighten away the terrors that beguiled his mind. Once he calmed her hand retracted back to her own body. It wasn’t her business to keep company to those who couldn’t sleep, as long as she could eventually find peace of her own.

N’zar rolled to her side, into the bunk and screwed her eyes shut the best she could. This is what she was brought to, this is what she would endure.

At least he was easy on the eyes.


	4. Over and Over and Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> N'Zar's first day on the job and she's trying her best.

Yondu awoke with a start, before his alarm and before anyone else in the barrack. Years of being with one eye open at night made him a light sleeper, and quick to rise lest he wanted a boot to the ribs. He dropped from his bunk and checked on his new and unwanted ward. Still asleep. He should haul her bony green hide out of her bunk for the mawkish gesture she tried last night. He didn’t need someone to hold his hand like a child if he had a bad dream. All she managed to do was wake him, and the only thing keeping him from throttling her in the dead of night was the thought of what a Stakar would do if he had. Some comfort that was.

 

The alarm went off, and the groans of men followed. N’Zar was still in her bunk after all the other men had risen, cocooned into the thin blankets.

 

“Get up.” A drawling voice said to her.

 

“Fighmormits…” She slurred, pulling the blankets closer to her.

 

Something heavy grabbed at her shoulder and shook her. She batted at the hand and rolled onto her belly.

 

The heavy thing and the drawl tried a final time and shake her back. 

 

“Get up, girl.” The drawl said with an aggressive gravel.

 

N’Zar finally conceded and her head emerged from the nest of sheets. A bleary mass of blue stood in front of her. She blinked and the mass came into focus as...that dickhead centaurian from last night. It wasn’t a dream. She was still on the Starhawk.

 

Hey la“Tenmrmints” She said as her face sunk back into the pillow.

 

Yondu had had enough of this. He grabbed the sheets and yanked hard. They were stripped off the mattress and tossed on the floor along with his charge. N’zar hit the floor hard on her back. She let out a cry of pain, and a few explicatives.

 

“Get  _ up _ .” he said again with far more force.

 

She got up. “Yes, Udonta.” She looked up at him. He was already dressed and ready for the day. He was holding a bundle of clothes which he unceremoniously dropped on the pile of her and blankets.

 

“Here.” he said. “They’re clean.”

 

“Can’t I get a shower first?”

 

“Showers are for those who earn ‘em. Now put those on.”   
  
She held up the shirt. It was far too big for her, nearly to her knees, adorned with grease stains and an ancient faded graphic, something about what happens on Sakaar, and it was a washed out, grimy pink.

 

She hated pink. 

 

She sighed and pulled on the dusty rose shirt, and the mauve leggings that accompanied it. It went down past her waist and halfway to her knees. The collar was bigger than her head, and N’Zar was left with the choice of exposing one shoulder, or pulling the shirt, more of a tunic really, down her front and exposing a provocative amount of her chest. She did what she could to alter her form to fit her clothes, but to no avail. She tied a knot in the back, forcing the collar up to her neck and exposing her back down past her shoulder blades. She still looked like she was wearing a sack.

 

“What no boots?” She asked.

 

“You get boots when we can find something that fits you. Yer a good head shorter than everyone else here.” Her keeper said.

 

“Can I at least get a belt?” She complained.

 

Yondu went to his locker, and pulled out a short strip of leather, and shoved it into her arms. The belt helped. But she still felt like she was wearing a dress. A pink dress. Once she was fully clothed the two headed for the mess hall.

 

* * *

 

This was humiliating. When Yondu had joined the Ravagers he was hoping for freedom, adventure, maybe getting rich stealing things. Not babysitting a shitty little shapeshifter stowaway.  The jabs by the crew wasn’t helping much either. Word had already gotten around he ship of his punishment and new charge. Everyone thought it was a fantastic joke that the hardened warrior had been duped by the little Skrull woman toddling along behind him.

 

“Hey look! Chef Yondu and his little girlfriend.”

 

“Don’t let her get to close or she’ll tase you in the junk again!”

 

“A scullery maid and a Skrullery maid.” Another said, of which only half the crew understood the joke, those that did groaned at the pun.

 

Those that didn’t mock or laugh shot N’Zar dirty looks and scowls. No one trusted her, both for what she did and because of what she was. Few in the galaxy sympathized with Skrull, and many of them had good reason to despise her. She kept her head down, avoided eye contact until the two walked into the galley.

 

The ship had no formal cook. They had an automated food replicator run by the ship’s computer Mainframe. They tried their best to accommodate the plethora of people that populated the crew, only to end with the same brownish chunks and gravybroth that N’Zar had recognized as the same food she had the previous night. It could use a bit of salt.

 

The two worked in silence, taking plates as they came. As she took the crew’s dishes from them N’Zar noticed was that she was nearly the only woman on board. Other than the arcturan woman sitting next to the captain, everyone else was a man, or at least as far as she could suss out everyone identified as male. This might be a problem, she thought. 

 

“So how long have you been working with these guys?” N’Zar asked, making a desperate attempt at breaking the monotony of washing dishes.

 

Yondu grunted and continued scrubbing at a caked on patch of food in a discarded pot.

“Long enough.” He said.

 

“Which is…?”

 

He turned to her. “Long enough.”

  
  


The last of the crew’s dishes came, and the majority left in clumps. The rest trickled out until only the two in the galley were left. With their tasks finished, they ate in silence. They observed each other in what they each believed was discretion. Yondu kept one hand on his bowl of food, while N’Zar was constantly scanning the room. Yondu also noticed the little marks on her neck and arms. Dark and puckered circles. He had seen worse, but burns were burns. He surmised that she had more elsewhere.

 

“So um...those little tchotchkes.In your bunk. Are they for...something?” She asked, trying once again to break the awkward silence between them.

 

“I collect ‘em.” He says. Once again he goes back to silent eating.

 

“Oh? Where’d you get them?”

 

“All over. I’m going to put them on my dash when I get my own ship.”

 

“That’s...kinda neat. You got a favorite?”

 

Yondu thought for a moment. “There’s one that’s got three eyes and looks like a bird.”

 

Three eyed bird sounded familiar. N’Zar knew she had seen something like that before.

 

“That’s some Kree thing right? It’s some mascot thing?”

 

Yondu gave a bit of a smirk. “Yeah it is. Stole it from this asshole guard. I’ve had it longer than I’ve been here.”

 

N’Zar perked up. Finally after a few hours of trying she had him on something.

 

“Yeah? Where were you before?”

 

Yondu lapsed back into brooding silence. “Somewhere else” is his only response.

 

Kree guard, the scars, the cagey demeanor around her, although that might have more to do with the other night, but still. Pieces were coming together in N’Zar’s mind.

 

“Were you a-“ her last question was cut off by the squeak of Yondu’s chair as he stood up.

 

* * *

 

Second shift started. Lunch was the same thing as breakfast. Same slop and the same faces glaring at her. N’Zar was scrubbing the plates and Yondu was drying. Neither were paying attention too much to the other. Not until N’Zar let out a loud curse and fell back from the receiving counter sending ceramic plates to the floor in white shards. Yondu snapped his head up to see what had shaken the girl. Laying on the counter was a dead orloni. It had been disemboweled and strewn across a dish.

 

“Aw hell!” He said, seeing the bloody mess. He looked down at his ward, shook by the gruesome sight.

 

“Get up you dumbass.” He snapped. N’Zar flinched, and stood up. She hated orloni, and seeing one with it’s guts out made things doubly worse. 

 

“Hey who’s the stupid fuck who did this!?” Yondu yelled out into the mess.

 

Everyone kept their head down. The hall stayed silent other than the sounds of a hundred men chewing and slurping. Yondu picked up the carcass, stomping out of the galley and into the hall with N’Zar abreast to him, pulling at him to come back into the galley.

 

“Udonta don’t” She protested, but he shoved her off.

 

“Hope y’all like fresh  _ meat _ !” He shouted, and chucked the carcass out into the crew with blood arching over some of their heads.  The dead space rat landed squarely in someone’s lunch, gravy and gore splattering several at the table. One of them stood up. A kylorian, with brown and red on his face. He stood at height with Yondu but he had a good fifty pounds of muscle on him. He walked toward him, the broader man stood nose to nose, the two staring each other down. N’Zar was still pulling at him to come back to his duties.

 

“You should listen to the skrull whore and go back to your job, Yond-UGH” The kylorian was cut off when a blue fist connected with his nose. The pink man held his face while threads of blood oozed between his fingers. Yondu pinned him to the floor and proceeded to pound the man’s face into the filthy linoleum.

 

“Udonta stop!” N’Zar screamed, trying to pry her chaperone off his punching bag. Yondu shoved her back into the wall.

 

“YONDU.” A voice bellowed out into the mess hall. Yondu froze and all eyes went to the entrance. A monolith of a jovian stood, his bald head barely grazing the top of the threshold. He strode towards the scuffle and removed him bodily from the man he had been pummeling. He held Yondu at the back of his neck, all the while he writhed and swiped at the air like a feral cat, a stream of explicatives spewed from his mouth.

 

“Put me down, Charlie! I’m gonna put this puke in the ground!”

 

“Both of you outside. Now.” Charlie-27 pointed at the Kylorian with the broken nose. “Go to the infirmary, then go see Stakar. THE REST OF YOU GET BACK TO EATING.”

 

Out in the hall, Charlie drops Yondu gingerly to the floor. N’Zar stands next to him, but not too closely.

 

“What happened?”

 

“Some jackass put a dead orloni on a plate. Scared the shit out of the girl.”   
  
“And that’s how you got into a fight?”

 

Yondu averted his gaze “No not exactly I uh…threw it into the hall.”   
  


“Really.” Charlie-27 stated. It wasn’t a question. He knew the answer was true, but he had to confirm it with the girl. “Is that what happened?”

 

N’Zar looked at Charlie, at Yondu, and back at Charlie. She opened and closed her mouth. “He...he did. But that guy called me a whore..”

 

“I don’t care what he called you I had to come in and end it, dead orloni or not. I ain’t going to tell Stakar about this but I don’t want to hear about another fight. And you Miss N’Zenne, fight for yourself. Don’t let Yondu take the punches for you.”

 

Charlie 27 walked into the mess hall, muttering something about how he was tired of this shit.

 

N’Zar looked at Yondu. His face had gone back to a blank mask he had worn all morning. “Sorry.” She said.

 

He let out a breath. “You wanted a shower? Go get it while there’s still hot water.” He said.

 

* * *

 

Shower....

 

It felt like years since she had been able to bathe. Rivulets of warm water streamed down her back, the grime of Knowhere sloughed off never to be seen again. She was alone in the communal shower, save for her chaperone, whom hid behind the tiled wall. She bet he wanted to see her. Wanted to confirm if any of the rumors about Skrull were true. What she had between her legs, if she had nipples, if the folds in her jaw went beyond her neck. She had heard them all. And yet he abstained. Maybe he was disgusted by her, it was within his rights. If he was a slave to the Kree than they would have convinced him that she was an abomination or worse. Or maybe he was just not interested in her. But if she truly was the only available woman on board, and by how he seemed so eager on Knowhere, that did not necessarily seem to be the case. And why did he punch that man when he called her a whore?

 

She scoured her skin with soap, deepening the peridot tones to expunge the interstellar grime the best she could. She did not care about whether or not Yondu wanted her or not. Her only concern at the moment was the fleeting warmth of the shower and the gray filth-water circling the drain between her feet. A heavy succession of thumps on the far wall meant that her alone time was over.

 

A blue hand held out a towel for her. She was glad he was polite. Or a prude. Maybe both. She took it and dried herself off.

 

“Thank you” she said as she turned the corner to look at her custodian.

 

“Whatever.” 

 

“No really. Thanks. For defending me. You didn’t need to do that.”

 

He shrugged. “Let’s get back to the mess hall. Dinner’s gonna start soon.”

  
  


At dinner there were no incidents. No dead orloni, and no fights. But she’d be damned if she didn’t feel on edge the whole shift. None of the crew could look at her, which in a strange way was even worse than before.

 

After dinner she returned to the barracks. Sitting in front of her bunk was a pair of boots. Not new, but in better condition than what she had on her feet. They did not quite fit, but they were close enough.

 

“Hope those make do.” A voice said behind her. She turned to see a tall man, with dark dreadlocked hair. There were long scars and blue tattoos across his face. “Someone found them way in the back of storage.”

 

“Thank you. Um…”

 

“Tullk Ul-Zyn. And don’t thank me, someone else found them.”

 

She looked down at her new boots. She’d take whatever shred of kindness she could get, even if it were anonymous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tullk does in fact have a last name in 616, so I stuck that in there.


	5. Good Times Bad Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu and N'Zar head out on a mission, NZar proves to be fairly crafty.

Days pass into weeks. Scullery duty continued, but there was a distinct air of hesitation from the rest of the crew when the two worked. There were no more incidents like with the orloni, and while the name calling and jeering still happened it wasn’t nearly as often as it had been that first day. It appeared that N’Zar had been accepted, although she suspected it was done at the behest of the officers of the Starhawk. She no longer tagged along with her charge although she did spend a bit of time with him. Eventually Yondu broke off from mess duties, and she kept washing dishes.

 

She still didn’t know much about him, where he was from, what he did before becoming a Ravager. What little he spoke to her was usually orders or grunts. She almost never saw him smile, and when he did, it was always with some wicked reason behind it. She had to find out from Tullk. She was scouring the sink of grime from the previous meal when he came by on his break.

 

“What’s Udonta’s deal?” She asked him, brushing off the grime from her trousers.

 

“What d’you mean?” He asked, ha

 

“I mean why’s he always so angry? It’s like he just wants to fight about everything all the time.”

 

“It’s the only thing he knows. He was a slave most of his life.”

 

“I figured that but I mean...I’ve known people who’ve been slaves before, I’ve never met anyone like him before.”

 

“Prolly cause he was a battle slave.”

 

N’Zar stopped mid scrub. That explains a fair amount. To fight for the Kree without actually being Kree was damn near a death sentence. She had never met one in person, but she had heard stories. They were the vanguard of the ground troops, cannon fodder. He knew her kind more as those that should be destroyed than as actual people. She felt for him, she truly did. Military life, especially forced military life, and at such a young age, was hard.

 

N’Zar snorted. “No wonder he hates me.”

 

“I don’t think he hates you. Don’t take it personally he’s like that with everyone. We just got used to it. It’s how he is.”

 

She was about to say something to him, when someone entered the mess. The Krylorian with the now-crooked nose from the fight.

 

“Captain wants to see you. He’s with the other officers.” He said.

* * *

In so many years of her life, being told to see the boss still scared her. A thousand scenarios went through her mind. She’d been found out and they’re going to send her back to Knowhere; they knew who she really was and they’re going to collect the bounty on her head; they just don’t like her and she’s getting spaced. She could feel her heart beat against her ribs as she made her way to the officers’ quarters, a slightly more spacious section of the ship, where Udonta and the officers were waiting for her. They were all sitting around a table. Stakar, his wife Aleta, his first mate Martinex, Charlie 27, Krugarr, and Yondu. The gang was all there. She stood military stiff in front of her superiors, beating against her chest twice, hard as she could, her back as straight as she could muster.

“Miss N’Zenne”, Stakar started, “We need you 

“We’ve been contracted to steal this.” A section of the table shimmered and a projection of a bust of a woman adorned in black robes of obsidian. It was a fairly unimpressive thing, save for a brilliant red jewel in the center of her throat. “That is the Neramani Star. The client just wants that, not the statue. It’s currently owned by this her.” The projection changes, and a Shi’ar woman appears in the bust’s place.

N’Zar relaxed her shoulders, let her back slump slightly.  She cocked her head and looked at the ruby. It must have been the size of her fist. “All right but what does this have to do with me?”

“I’m getting to that.” Stakar said.

“We need you to trade places with this man.” another projection appeared. A Strontian man, slightly younger than the Shi’ar. “Her assistant. We need you to pose as him.”

“Oh! Oooooh. Okay I thought I was in trouble.”

The captain smirked and shook his head. “No you’re doing fine. But if you help us with this you’d be doing us a solid. So what do you want to do?”

“I’m...Wait what are you asking?”

“Give us a plan.” He motioned towards the hologram “What would you do to make it so that his employer doesn’t suspect you, and how are you going to get that stone?”

N’Zar took herself out of the room for the moment. There was a great deal more information she would need if she were to configure a plan.

“What else do you have on him?” She asked, a half demand.

“That’s all we got.”

“I think…”she started, “I’d tail him. No not tail him. Not just me anyway. Get a few guys to watch him, get his routine down, see where he goes in the span of a few days, maybe a week if this was extended. A month if this was deep cover. If this is just a day then following him for a few days or so’d do.”

“Then what?”

“If he’s got a regular place he goes, and by the look of him he probably does. Maybe a bar or he goes and spends time with someone on the weekend, go and see him then, try and chat him up and get him alone.”

“This is very elaborate, N’Zenne.”

She didn’t hear the captain. 

“I’d get him alone and the others jump him and knock him out. Hide him in his house or something. Then I go in the next day, check out what she has for security and report back, and then we rob the lady.”

“Sounds like an all right plan.”

N’Zar returned to the land of the living and looked up at Stakar. “Wait what?”

“That was a bit much but we just wanted to know if you were on the same page. You’re joining Yondu here, and a few others, to go and take that stone.”

N’Zar understood now. She knew why the captain didn’t flay her outright when he found her stowed away on his ship. Her sob story did nothing to help her. He was willing to take her on whether she was tragic or not. She almost regretted spilling her guts until the thought of what she would have had to endure back on Knowhere.

“What do I get out of this?” she asked

“You get a cut, and anything else you find is yours.”

N’Zar looked at the holograph. She looked up at the officers and Udonta.

“All right, I’ll do it. Where are we going anyway?”

“Spartax.”

“Oh cool. Spartax. I have no idea where that is.”

 

Aleta snorted.

* * *

N’Zar walked down the sun drenched cobblestones of an old part of the Spartoi capitol. The ancient buildings of stone and glass around the open square stood dignified in contrast to the monstrous skyscrapers of downtown and the floating transports that crisscrossed the sky. There were a few booths and carts set up around them selling all manner of produce, a few selling wines or other libations. This was what she had always imagined what her ancestors’ home had once been like.

“Enough sightseeing, N’Zenne. The guy’s coming up on your left.” Udonta’s familiar abrasive drawl said through her earpiece.

And so he was. Lean, violet skinned, somewhere in his forties and running through the square like several others that morning. N’Zar wandered around him, keeping a good few meters away. The mark turned the corner of the block, she was a good ten feet away from him. The mark stopped at a crosswalk. When the signal changed, she noticed that his pace had picked up. Had he noticed her? She hung back a little bit. She didn’t want to scare him.

“Get closer, N’Zenne.” Udonta said.

“I’ll spook him if he gets closer”

“Get closer. That’s an order.”

“I’m fine.” She insisted.   
  
“You’ll lose him.”   
  
She stops and looks up into the tall buildings above her. “I know what I’m doing, Udonta.”   
  


On a roof some five blocks away, with a very powerful pair of binoculars, a man with blue skin and a red mohawk of an implant scowled. He would not tolerate insubordination, or some little shit Skrull talking back to him.

“Get back to him.  _ Now _ .” Yondu demanded, an agitated rumble in his voice.

She glared in the vicinity of the building, and returned to tailing the Strontian man.

“Don’t be so hard on her.” Tullk said from across the room. He had been monitoring her target’s movements. “It’s her first mission, Yondu.”

“She shits the bed I’m going to be the one paying for it.”

“Have some faith in her. She’s probably done this before although it probably ended with a wallet.”

Yondu grumbled. “I have a lot riding on this mission, Tullk.”

“I know.” was all Tullk said and waved him off. He looked through his own scope. The sun was still low in the morning sky, and the scope each could see her in a terran-esque shift with olive skin and dark hair. Her eyes remained the same. “She’s not that bad looking like this.”   
  
“If you like skinny green shapeshifters.” Yondu scoffed.

“What if I do?” Tullk asked.

Yondu wasn’t sure if he was trying to get a rise out of him, or if he was genuinely interested. But he turned to look at his scarred and tattooed friend. He squinted. He wasn’t sure if his friend was serious or not. Getting duped by a skrull was one thing, it was an entirely different thing to go to bed  _ voluntarily _ with one. He could understand the appeal to some degree, shifting into whatever he wanted, any race, any gender, but as she was was different.

“I ain’t her keeper anymore. If you want to ask her out you do you.”

“Then maybe I will.” Tullk said, a ghost of a smile on his face. “What’s she like in bed?”

“He wouldn’t know he never got that far. And I’m not skinny!” A distinctly feminine voice said over the comms. The two men had momentarily forgotten they were still speaking over an open channel. Somewhere in orbit around Spartax, in the officers quarters on board the Starhawk, Aleta Ogord let out a horsey peal of laughter.

* * *

She wasn’t that skinny. Not anymore. A few good-ish meals on the Starhawk saw to that. She was lean, but she wasn’t  _ skinny _ . What would Udonta know anyway.

She followed her orders, catching up to the mark. The old buildings fell away to modern homes. More angular and dull rowhouses. She saw him walk up a flight of stairs to one of the last traditional-looking brick buildings on the street. It was a modest thing of two stories and made of red and creme brick. She walked passed the building, making note as he walked into the house.

“Now we know where he lives. So now what?”

“Wait there, N’Zenne.”

A small and growing blip in the sky came down, a transport, parking a block away from the house. From the cabin of the car came Yondu and Tullk.

“Alright so now what do we do?” She asked once again.

Yondu looked up at the building.

“Y’think you can turn into a bird?” He asks.

“Yeah but I won’t be able to fly or anything.”

“Ah...what?”

“I’m gonna be too heavy to fly, and I won’t really know  _ how _ to fly since I never practiced being a bird. Might be able to glide, but I don’t think there’s enough wind to get me very far. What did you want me to do crash into the window?”

He scowled. “If you’re so smart what do we do?” Yondu grumbled.

N’Zar looked at her two partners. Both were scruffy, one was ill-tempered, the other one too many tattoos for what she had in mind, but it might still work.

“You guys got any money?”

The two men searched the pockets of their leathers. Between the two of them they had a little shy of thirty units. 

“This should do us...we gotta find a thrift store.”

“Thrift store?” Yondu asked.

 

“Yeah a thrift store! That transport got a GPS?”

* * *

He was in the midst of dressing for work when the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting company, but perhaps it was that package from home he had been waiting on? The one his father said he would have to sign for. The strontian man heard the doorbell ring again, this time with some slight urgency. Down the stairs he went to see three figures behind the frosted glass. He opened the door and in front of him was a small strontian woman holding a very thick, dog-eared book. Her outfit was conservative, a dark skirt and blazer, with a white shirt and dark tights. Around her neck she wore a bright gold ankh. Behind her were two men in a similar mode of dress. They all looked rather tired and haggard, with beads of sweat from the summer heat on their faces, and dark patches under their arms.

The woman gave him a toothy smile. “Excuse me sir, I hate to be a bother on this very lovely morning, but do you have a moment to talk about the Magus? It will only be a moment of your time.”

Unies. Great. 

“I’m very sorry but I don’t have the time right now.” He said, and began to close the door only to have it stopped by her foot in the threshold.

“Perhaps some other time then?” She squeaked. “I could come back later today if you’d be so inclined.”

She was being persistent, and from the looks of her she had been running around in those clothes most of the morning. He looked into her sad golden eyes. He honestly shouldn’t. The two behind her looked mean, and the Centaurian in particular looked like he was ready to stab someone His employer does not like to be left waiting, and he generally was not a fan of the Universal Church of Truth, but at the very least he could be polite and let her in for a glass of water.

He sighed, and opened the door wider to let her and her compatriots in.

She gave a slight curtsy and the three walked into the house. The Centaruian kept his eyes forward, not even looking at his host. The last one, a man with scars and tattoos, came up to the man and shook his hand heartily. “Thank ye very much, sir.” He said, sticking a small metal disc to his hand. He looked into the man’s face, a wicked grin on his face. Behind the two men the Strontian woman’s violet skin was changing to an olive green. Her hand was reaching for something around her wrist, and it was the last thing he saw before a shock and the floor rushing up to him.


	6. Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Heist continues!

The thrift store. After thousands of years of interstellar travel and cities that envelop entire planets, between monstrous empires that span hundreds of star systems, eldritch planet eaters and immortal spirits of fire, there was still a place to drop off old clothes and appliances, and they permeated throughout the galaxy.

“So we’re going as what?” Yondu asks, pulling off his Ravager coat and donning a plain gray jacket. 

“Unies. Yknow. Guys from the universal church of truth.” N’Zar says from one one of the makeshift dressing rooms, the walls made of curtains.

“Not so loud, you two.” Tullk says, also donning a jacket.

Out steps N’Zar, in a modest outfit and her tunic and leggings balled up in her hands. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail.

“What? There’s one guy here and he wouldn’t care if we were planning to bomb the Nova Corp.” Yondu stated, motioning to the teenager behind the front counter reading a book.

N’Zar looked at her two compatriots. Both nearly looked the part save for their scars and menacing demeanors, and ripped the tags off their clothes. The last touch was a ragged copy of the Church’s creed, and three cheap ankhs from the small glass jewelry display at the front, and the three were ready for their grift.

In the transport back to the mark’s house she explained. “So we’re gonna pose as Unies, get inside and knock him out.”

“That’s it? What if this guy doesn’t let us in?” Yondu asks.

“He’ll let us in. Trust me.” She pulled up a copy of the man’s portrait onto the console. She stared with a great deal of concentration at the photo, and her skin changed from olive to the violet tones of the mark. Her face began to change as well, but not to his face. Not entirely. She only vaguely looked like him. She could have been a distant relative if one squinted hard enough.

“You think he’s going to just let us in with you looking kinda like him?” Yondu asked.

“It worked on you.” She said with a grin. Yondu grumbled something about her being a wise ass. “Stop the car here. We’re gonna have to walk the rest of the way.”

* * *

 

Tullk and Yondu dragged the unconscious Strontian man up the stairs of the narrow brownstone. They laid him less than delicately upon the bed, putting his arms in quick-tie restraints, and retrieving the stun disc from his hand.

“Works every time” Tullk said, flipping the disc like a coin.

N’Zar was already beginning her transformation. A little taller, a little broader. The only caveat that he still couldn’t quite get clothing right. He went over to his closet. Behind the modest doors was a row of pressed charcoal suits, and a small chest of drawers. There were a few nice ties, silk socks. And a watch. A  very nice watch. A handsome gold chain wrist watch, with a black face with gold hands. It was something that looked like it took a few paychecks to buy, or maybe something inherited. 

“N’Zar don’t go snoopin’” Yondu said, eyeing him eyeing the watch.

“I’m not snooping I’m just...getting...more in character is all.” He said, pulling on one of the suits. He had to adjust his height and weight to get the fit right, but it felt good to wear something that expensive. It was something he had to put effort into to fill. It was tailor made. The tie gave him trouble, and he had to have Tullk tie it on him. The process resulted in N’Zar handing him a tie and doing the knot on himself to get it right. N’Zar looked over at Yondu whom was busy restraining the Strontian’s legs. The two were busy, he took advantage and began strapping the watch on.

“Take it off.” Yondu ordered. He hadn’t looked up from tying the mans legs together but he knew what N’Zar was doing.

“He’s not going to miss it” He says, having a difficult time with the clasp on the chain.

“Put it back. That ain’t part of the code.”

“A code?” N’Zar sneered.

“We only take from people who can afford it now put the watch back.”

“Yeah and what about his clothes?”   
  
“That’s collateral. Now put it back.”

N’Zar rolled his eyes. _ Thieves with a conscience _ . Wonderful. As far as he was concerned theft was theft, and all marks were fair game. He continued to strap the watch on.

“Y’best take it off.” Tullk said from behind him. He looked over his shoulder at his friend, and back at his leader, and back at his wrist. He didn’t hold either of them in very high regard, Yondu especially so. He was a thug and a lackey to Stakar. As far as he was concerned, they were just another bunch of pirates, code or no code.

N’Zar had finally closed the clasp on the watch, and a heavy blue hand seized at his wrist and wrenched off the timepiece.

“I told you to take it off and when I give an order you obey it.” he ordered with a menacing gravel to his voice. “You got that, girlie?”

He looked over at Tullk, who said nothing, his gaze on the mark. N’Zar tried to pull away but the grip on him was like a vise. The more he tried to break free the tighter the hold on him became. He looked up at Yondu. His ruby eyes flat with anger, as if he could bear down on him until every bone in his wrist separated and turned to paste from the sheer force of pressure he could exert. N’Zar went slack against his grip.

“ _Fine_.” he conceded. Yondu let go and the watch went back into the drawer. The three made their way out of the house.

In the car, N’Zar sulked. That watch would’ve been a nice little side hustle if it weren’t for their ‘code’. He looked over at Yondu. He was driving, his eyes never moving from the windshield, with the seemingly permanent scowl on his face more pronounced. His mouth was a thin line. N’Zar looked down at the passing transports and streets below. There was a dull pain in his arm where Yondu had gripped it.

“So what’s this code of yours anyway? You gonna rob from the rich and give to whoever?” N’Zar asked.

“Steal from those who can afford it or deserve it, no slaves or kids, don’t start fights you can’t finish.” Yondu stated in a rehearsed tone.

It was straight forward, and nothing N’Zar hadn’t heard before. Save for one ambiguity.

“Who says who deserves it? Stakar?”

“Yeah.”

“But how does he make that call?”

“He just does.” Tullk said from the back seat.

“So what about this Shi’ar bird we’re ripping off? What’d she do to deserve it?”

“What does it matter?” Tullk asked.

N’Zar craned his body over the side of the passenger seat to look at his friend. “It  _ matters _ . If y’guys got a code there’s a reason why you do shit, and I wanna know why we’re taking this thing from her.”

“Because she can afford it and the captain said so, and that’s all you need to know.” Yondu said, with a tone of voice that shut down the potential for anymore conversation about the code.

The transport began its descent. Gone were the row houses and city streets, and all was replaced with wide yards and greenery, all of which was encased behind high stone walls and gates of steel. They pulled up to one such gate. The security system engaged as they reached it. A small intercom on the gate column activated.

“State your business.” A voice said over the speaker.

N’Zar cleated his throat and leaned over Yondu towards the intercom. “It’s Tellius.”

“Tellius? Where’s your car?”

“It’s in the shop. Friends are dropping me off.”

A rattle of metal and the gate opened. Yondu drove through and down the long driveway, the road shaded with massive trees. They approached the stately house, a brilliant white monstrosity in an ancient Spartoi fashion. By the looks of it and the property it was easily worth more than the Starhawk five times over. Whoever this woman was, she fell into Stakar’s former thieving category moreso than the latter. She could afford it.

The three exited the car, a valet was waiting outside.

“Hey Tellius what happened to your car?” The valet asked.

”It was making some weird noises last night.” False Tellius answered. “It’s in the shop getting fixed. These are my friends Harvi and Prote.” He motioned to Yondu and Tullk. “They’re going to hang out with me for the afternoon.”

The valet eyed the two Ravagers. They didn’t look like anyone Tellius would associate with, especially the very ornery man with blue skin. “Does Ezria know?”

“Of course she does.”

The valet wasn’t entirely convinced, but he was t being paid enough to say anything otherwise, and stepped aside to park the car.

The foyer of the house was just as opulent as the exterior. White marble floors shot through with veins of gray, and white walls accented with stately columns of the same white marble as the floors.

“The statue’s upstairs.” Yondu said.

Up they went, passing by what he assumed was a painting of the lady of the house. Tall, opposing and clad all in silver, with eyes lined heavily in black.

The upstairs was much like the foyer. More white marble, but with the added addition of a skylight down the long hallway, and plush crimson carpet.

“Spread out.” Yondu ordered. “The info said it’s going to be in a nook on the wall.”

“Nook thing. Right.” Not Tellius rolled his eyes, and noticed a little glass dome inlaid into the ceiling. Something in the glass dome was following his movement.

“There’s cameras” he stated.

“I’m working on it, girl“ Tullk said.

“Tellius?” There was someone next to him, standing in the doorway. A woman, shi’ar, tall and imposing, but not in the hard chrome armor from the painting. It was softer, more casual.

“Good morning, Ma’am.”

“Who are these two?” She motioned towards Yondu and Tullk.

Oh crap.

“Just...friends of mine, ma’am. They’re visiting me from out of town. Thought I’d show them where I work.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Im going to have to ask you to escort them out. This isn’t a museum this is my home.” 

“Y-yes ma’am I’m sorry ma’am.” False Tellius said, and escorted the men back downstairs. She let him go, back through the door she cane from. The false Tellius sighed relief and headed back down stairs.

“So now what?” He asked.

“Now we try something different. Go get the car ready.”

“I uh...I don’t think I’m good for that.”

“You don’t know how to drive.” Yondu states.

“Not a bit” False Tellius said with a shake of his head.

“You can hot wire an MShip but you can’t drive a transport?!”

“Hey look, of that shits automated and flying through space isn’t exactly the same as a car...And I was...kinda...desperate. ”

  
Yondu groaned“Fine. Tullk.  _ You _ go get the transport ready. N’Zar,” Yondu commands, his ruby eyes drill into the Skrull masquerading as a Strontian. “Yer coming with me. We’re going to work.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is legit the first piece of fanfiction i have written in about fifteen years. hopefully i did a good job.


End file.
